


A picture of rice cake

by parkkate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Breakfast, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, H/D Food Fair 2018, Harry Potter Cooks, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter with Asian Background, Humor, Implied Switching, Korean Food, M/M, Morning After, Pancakes, Porn with Feelings, Post-Hogwarts, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-02 19:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15803517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkkate/pseuds/parkkate
Summary: (For Prompt) After a night of hot sex, Draco wakes up to the smell of Harry cooking. When he eats his food Draco vows that's it, Harry's making him breakfast forever.





	A picture of rice cake

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[222](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1E_uQJlIb5C6nLnMg8VrUUnrKtyx16is1FLbyvoxLEik/edit).
> 
> Dear prompter, thank you so much for that fun prompt! I admit, I got a bit carried away. I am 100% sure this is as far from what you had in mind as humanly possible, but I still hope you’ll enjoy it. As soon as I read your prompt, an idea hit me. I wanted to write a fic in which Harry has an Asian background for so long - I hope you don't mind. Speaking of which: the title of this fic may seem a bit odd. It’s actually a Korean proverb (I apologize for the horrible translation!). The English equivalent is ‘Pie in the sky’ :) 
> 
> Thank you so much to my wonderful beta [JET_Playin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JET_Playin/pseuds/JET_Playin) who is absolutely brilliant and fantastic! ❤️️ And a huge thank you to the mods for all their time and dedication!
> 
> Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Draco wakes to the distant sound of pots and dishes being banged against each other. He scrunches up his nose, inhaling deeply, only to be hit by the delicious smell of coffee and… something else. Without opening his eyes, he fumbles around the bed, only to find it empty. Ah, so it’s Potter making those noises. Is he making breakfast? Draco can’t help but grin and presses his face into the pillow. He stretches, his sore muscles protesting vehemently. Well, it’s not that big of a surprise. He and Potter had sex three times last night. Merlin, being with that prat is a more effective training than being a professional Quidditch player! Draco’s grin widens as he lets everything that happened the night before replay in his mind…

_“Oh, Merlin,” Draco gasps as Potter sucks on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck._

_“I love the feel of your skin,” Potter growls, pressing his body even more firmly against Draco’s. Being pinned against Potter’s front door is so sensual on so many levels. Firstly, who doesn’t want to be pinned against a door by Harry fucking Potter? Secondly… even though they’ve been doing this for a few months now, Potter has never invited Draco back to his place. They usually go to Draco’s flat… if they make it there. On more than one occasion, they hurried into the loo or into an alleyway, unable to stop themselves._

_“The Muggles can’t see or hear us, right?” Draco murmurs, letting his head fall back against the door._

_“No, my house is under the Fidelius Charm.”_

_Draco freezes and he’s pretty sure Potter notices._

_He pulls back, a questioning look on his face. “What?”_

_“This is a big deal for you, isn’t it?” Draco breathes. “Letting me know where you live?”_

_Potter makes a dismissive gesture, but Draco doesn’t buy it. He decides not to push Potter, in case he changes his mind about it. He grabs his face and pulls him into a kiss, shuddering when Potter sighs against his lips._

_As soon as Draco slips his tongue into his mouth, something in Potter seems to snap. Draco startles as the door suddenly springs open behind him and Potter pushes him inside. The door swings shut with a bang, but Draco barely notices it. Potter is pushing him against the wall, kissing him deeply and so hungrily, he feels deliciously dizzy. He only registers Potter is undressing him when his fingers brush against Draco’s bare chest._

_“Yes, please,” he groans when Potter’s fingers graze one of his nipples and he grabs Potter’s neck to pull him deeper into the kiss. He lets out a guttural sound when Potter pulls him forward and wrenches his shirt from his shoulders. He lets his head fall back to the wall, his back arched as Potter loops one of his arms around his midriff and lowers his head. Draco bites back a moan and quickly buries his hands in Potter’s hair, so he can cling to it, while Potter sucks his nipple into his mouth._

_Draco’s breathing is already ragged as Potter moves lower, kisses his stomach, dips his tongue into his belly button and starts undoing his trousers with swift fingers. Draco’s cock is already pulsing in his pants; he’s been half hard for almost two hours. The mere thought of Potter is enough to get him going._

_“Merlin, yes,” he hears Potter breathe as Draco’s trousers slide down his legs and he pulls down Draco’s pants. “I missed your cock,” he says with a cheeky grin. Draco’s stomach flips at those words._

_“It’s been a week, Potter,” he retorts and rolls his eyes._

_“Believe me, I know,” Potter says, settling himself on his knees. Draco could come from this sight alone; Potter, kneeling in front of him, holding his cock. It’s the stuff filthy dreams are made of. Draco should know. Before he can say anything, Potter licks the length of his cock with relish. “I’ll have to quit my job,” he murmurs._

_“You want to quit your job because you missed my cock?” Draco snorts._

_“If it means I don’t have to go a week without having it in my mouth, then yes.”_

_“Nnngh!” Draco balls his hands into fists and closes his eyes. Potter takes his time to mouth at the base of his cock, slowly moving upwards. Draco’s hips jerk and he lets out a low moan when Potter licks the underside of the head. Merlin, Potter is so good with his tongue. He hears Potter chuckle and realises, to his horror, he just said that out loud. But he has no time to be embarrassed. Potter closes his mouth around the tip, pressing his tongue against the underside. When he starts wiggling it, Draco completely loses all control. He moves his hips, pushing his cock deeper into Potter’s mouth, groaning when Potter swallows. He keeps moving his hips, encouraged by Potter’s moans. He cracks open one eye and sees Potter is palming his own erection through his trousers as Draco keeps fucking his mouth. The thought that Potter is turned on by this almost makes Draco come on the spot._

_He places his hands on either side of Potter’s face and tips his head back until his cock springs free and Potter is looking at him with a dazed expression._

Draco rolls onto his back, stretching his arms away from him and slowly opens his eyes. He’s in Potter’s bedroom. He’s in his house. His home. He doesn’t know why it makes him feel so giddy. Maybe because it feels like Potter is finally letting him in, opening up to him. He’s so guarded these days. Much more than he used to be in school. Draco wouldn’t exactly describe himself as an open book, either, but it’s different with Potter. If only he knew Potter felt the same. Maybe he does. He took Draco past the Fidelius Charm. He let Draco spend the night. And he’s making breakfast.

As much as Draco would have liked to wake up entangled with Potter, this isn’t such a bad alternative. Not at all.

Still grinning, he hops out of bed and gathers up his clothes. He’ll probably have to pretend that whatever Potter is cooking isn’t making him gag, but that’s okay. If worst comes to worst, he’ll just swing by his favourite bakery on his way home.

He takes a look around, snorting when he notices how clean everything looks. Potter told him his house-elf is still at Hogwarts, which means this is all him. Huh. Who would have thought Potter makes such a good betty? Especially since Draco knows how filthy he can be.

_“Take me to bed, Potter,” Draco murmurs, not at all surprised at how raspy his voice sounds. Potter gives him a crooked smirk before he gets up and presses himself flush against Draco. Draco immediately feels the sharp pull of Apparition and next thing he knows, he’s standing in front of a bed with a naked Harry Potter wrapped around him._

_“Did you just Apparate us_ and _vanish our clothes at the same time?”_

_Potter’s smirk widens._

_Fuck, that’s hot._

_“You better make it up to me, Potter,” Draco snarls, his voice trembling with desire, “those trousers were expensive.”_

_“And how do you propose I make it up to you?” Potter purrs as he starts kissing his neck. It makes Draco shiver all over._

_“Fuck me,” he moans, twisting his fingers into Potter’s soft hair. “Fuck me.”_

_He feels Potter’s lips stretch into another smile._

_“You know, for someone who was so adamant about topping when we started doing this, you’re begging for my dick a lot, lately.”_

_“I’m not begging,” Draco snaps, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when Potter moves his hips and rubs their cocks together._

_“Hmmmm, then I guess I’ll have to make you.”_

_The warmth of Potter’s mouth vanishes and before Draco knows what’s happening, Potter turns him around. Draco finds himself bend over, with his palms planted on the bed. He shudders when Potter grabs his right thigh and pushes his leg up until his knee rests on the bed as well._

_“When I’m finished with you, you won’t even notice how much you’re begging for my dick.” Potter’s low voice soaks into him and the thrill of it settles somewhere around his groin. He tries to stay perfectly still while Potter places open-mouthed kisses all over his cheeks and slowly wraps his hand around his cock and starts to stroke him. His resolution quickly crumbles when he feels the flat of Potter’s tongue on his skin._

_“Fuck!” He lets his arms collapse and buries his face into the duvet. It smells like Potter. Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

_He makes an embarrassing sound, which, luckily, is muffled by the duvet, when Potter lets go of his cock and spreads his cheeks apart with both hands. The anticipation is almost too much. He hears Potter hum and a puff of hot breath grazes his cleft. Draco is ready to lose his bloody mind. His cock is throbbing, leaking onto Potter’s bed, but just as he’s about to grab it, he feels Potter press his tongue against his rim._

Draco quietly descends the stairs and pokes his head into the kitchen. His mouth immediately goes dry. Potter has his back turned to him, standing in front of the stove, and Draco can see every damn muscle flexing beneath his tanned skin. Because Potter isn’t wearing a shirt. In fact, Potter is only wearing pants.

Merlin help him!

Seeing Potter naked in his bed is one thing. Seeing Potter only wearing pants in his kitchen, however, is on a completely different level. It’s as though Draco is getting a glimpse of his everyday life. A life he doesn’t know much about. Because Potter is an extremely private person.

Draco leans against the doorway and decides to watch Potter for a bit. His lips curl into a smirk when Potter bends down and rummages through a cupboard. There’s no denying it; Potter has the best arse Draco ever had the privilege to touch. His body moves before his mind approves, as though an invisible force is pulling him forward, towards Potter.

He doesn’t even flinch when Draco cups his cheeks and places a kiss between his shoulder blades.

_“Nnnnngh!” Draco bites the duvet and fists his hands into it as a wave of pleasure rushes through him. He starts panting while Potter licks him open greedily. He can’t help but push his hips back, desperate for more. He all but screams when Potter closes his mouth around his rim. He feels too hot, his entire body is tingling. He bangs his hand against the mattress and turns his head to the side, desperate for air._

_“Is there something you’d like to say?” Potter says, amusement ringing loudly in his voice._

_“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco pants._

_“Is that all?” Potter asks and presses the flat of his tongue against Draco’s fluttering rim once more._

_“Aaaah!”_

_“How much do you want me right now?” Potter murmurs into his cleft. Draco doesn’t want to give him the gratification, he really, really doesn’t. But all he can think about is how good it would feel to have Potter’s cock inside him. He twists his head to look over his shoulder; he can see the tip of Potter’s cock, rosy and leaking._

_“About as much as you want me, I’d say,” Draco wheezes._

_“Is that so?” Potter smirks. Draco watches him as he straightens himself, wordlessly summons the lube from his bedside table and slowly coats his cock with it. His fingers move so sensually, it makes Draco’s heart rate pick up. He lets his head fall back down on the mattress when Potter steps closer._

_“Fuck,” he murmurs, and Draco groans when he starts rubbing his tip against Draco’s entrance. But the bloody tease doesn’t push it in._

_“Do it, Potter,” Draco commands, although it sounds more like a whine._

_“Do what?” Potter asks, feigning innocence._

_“Fuck me already!”_

_“Hmmmm.”_

_Draco gasps as Potter presses the tip of his cock more firmly against his rim. He tries to relax, let Potter in, but just when he thinks he will finally do it, Potter’s cock suddenly disappears._

_“What the hell!”_

_Potter laughs and goes back to rubbing his tip against Draco._

_“Aaah!”_

_“You want me, don’t you?”_

_“Why do I need to say it? It’s pretty obvious at this point.”_

_Suddenly, he feels the warmth of Potter’s body on his back and his hot breath on his ear._

_“Just tell me,” he murmurs. “Tell me how much you want me.”_

_“You know how much I want you,” Draco groans. Potter pushes his cock inside, just the tiniest bit, and then he stills. “Fuck, Potter, just do it. Fuck me.” He inhales sharply. “Please.”_

_Potter hums and, to Draco’s immense irritation, pulls back again. He takes Draco’s earlobe between his lips and mumbles, “I want you so badly I think I’m going to combust.”_

_“Then why isn’t your cock up my arse?” Draco snaps._

_“Always so impatient.” Potter moves his hips and his cock slides in and out of Draco’s cleft. This is maddening._

_“Potter,” Draco whispers. “Potter, please. Please, I need you.”_

_Draco stops breathing when Potter stills. This is what he wants to hear, isn’t it? He wants to hear everything that’s going on in Draco’s mind right now. Why, though? He has never been this persistent before._

_“Say it again,” Potter says. His voice is low and full of wonder._

_Draco groans. “I need you. You know I do.” He suddenly feels embarrassed. He wonders if Potter knows he’s not just talking about his cock. He shudders as Potter touches the nape of his neck and lets his hand trail down Draco’s spine._

_“Me too,” he murmurs before he pulls back and settles himself behind Draco._

“Morning,” Potter says, looking over his shoulder. His lazy grin and his soft eyes make Draco melt on the spot. Even more so when he leans forward and captures Draco’s lips in an uncharacteristically sweet kiss.

It’s always gasps and moans, biting lower lips and hard thrusts with Potter. Not that Draco is complaining. His entire body tingles every time he thinks about it. But this, this feels so much more intimate than all the sex they’ve been having.

“Did I wake you?” Potter asks, his voice low. Draco’s heart skips a beat at the sound.

“If you’re doing all this,” he gestures to the stove, “to keep me sated and happy, then I may forgive you.”

“That’s the plan,” Potter whispers. He turns around and pulls Draco into a tight embrace. He cradles the back of his head and starts kissing him softly.

Draco blinks. What the hell is going on with Potter this morning? He shudders when Potter lets out a sigh and smiles against his mouth.

“Coffee?”

“About time, Potter,” Draco smirks. “I was beginning to think you haven’t learned any manners after all.”

Potter snorts and levitates a mug from the worktop towards Draco.

“Showoff,” Draco mutters as his fingers curl around the mug. Potter doing wandless magic is one of the sexiest things ever and the problem with that is, Potter hardly ever uses his wand anymore. Which means Draco is sporting a hard-on almost all the time when he’s around Potter. Well, that’s not entirely true. Just thinking about him is enough. But who can blame him? Anyone in their right mind would feel the same as soon as they lay eyes on that toned body. Not to mention his irritatingly cute puppy dog eyes and his hot, hot arse.

Draco takes a sip of coffee and makes an appreciative sound before he swallows. At least Potter can make decent coffee. It’s a start.

“I hope you like pancakes,” Potter says, and Draco realises he’s been watching him. He turns back to the stove as though Draco hasn’t just caught him staring at him. Draco peeks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow.

“What’s all this?” he asks, jerking his chin towards the pots.

“That,” Potter grins, “is _my_ breakfast.”

“Separate breakfasts?” Draco raises an eyebrow. “I knew it. You’re pants at cooking and can’t even eat your own pancakes. Or are you trying to poison me?”

Potter’s grin widens as a plate comes floating out of a cupboard and the pancakes neatly place themselves on it. “Syrup?” he asks, without taking his eyes off Draco.

“Oh yes, the stickier the better,” Draco smirks. Potter wiggles his brows and Draco bursts out laughing. He watches as the thick, auburn syrup trickles down on his pancakes before the bottle floats back to its place on the worktop.

“Take a seat, I’ll be there in a sec,” Potter says. Draco gives him a look in mock scepticism but follows his floating plate to the table. He puts down his mug and inspects the pancakes while a few frozen raspberries come flying out of the freezer and place themselves around the pancakes. They don’t look so bad. But food can still taste horrible, even if it looks okay. Draco should know. He’s running out of excuses on why he can’t come over to Pansy’s for dinner. Apparently, she’s discovered her love for cooking. Unfortunately, she’s not as talented as she thinks she is.

Draco looks up when Potter joins him at the table, a gazillion dishes trailing after him. A second later, the whole table is full of strange looking vegetables, huge pancakes that don’t really look like pancakes, some kind of stew, something that looks like sushi, and a bowl of rice.

“Seriously?” Draco asks, eyeing the chopsticks Potter puts down beside his tea. “This is your breakfast?”

Potter just shrugs.

“Potter, this isn’t breakfast. This is… lunch. Or dinner.” Draco smirks. “Are you that hungry after last night?”

“Actually,” Potter says with an equally impish smirk, “being around you _does_ make me… very hungry.” His voice drops on the last two words and he sounds so husky, all Draco wants to do is climb onto his lap. “And you’re right, this is my lunch and my dinner. But also breakfast.”

Draco makes a face. He can’t stand eating the same meal twice in a row, let alone three times! “How long have you been awake? Because this looks like you’ve been up since three am.”

Potter chuckles. “It’s pre-cooked.”

“Ah, so you bought it,” Draco smirks. “Should I get myself ready to be taken to St Mungo’s after eating these?” He points at his pancakes.

“Pre-cooked by me,” Potter says, emphatically. “That’s how Koreans do it.”

Draco frowns as he reaches for his coffee. “Since when are you so knowledgeable about Koreans?” He takes a sip. “And why?”

_“I’m_ Korean,” Potter shrugs, as though it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

“Excuse me?” Draco splutters. “Since when?”

Potter laughs. It’s open and unguarded. “Since always. But I didn’t know until Sirius told me.”

“Sirius. As in Black?”

“Yeah, he—” Potter hesitates. “He was my godfather.”

“Oh. Right.” Draco shifts uncomfortably in his seat. The atmosphere is suddenly much darker and he has no clue what to say. “So,” he begins awkwardly, “you’re Korean.”

“I am,” Potter says. “At least, from what Sirius told me, my great-grandmother was, which, I guess, makes me one, too. A little bit.”

“Huh.” Draco had no idea. “So where’d you learn how to do all this?”

“You remember the year after the war, when nobody knew where I was?”

Ah, Draco has been wondering about that. “Yeah?”

“I was in South Korea.”

“Really?” Out of all the places Draco imagined Potter roaming the streets, that’s the last one he expected. But, given this new information, it makes sense, he supposes.

“It was a nice change of scenery. A much needed one to be honest. I learned a lot about the culture and,” he gestures around the table, “I learned how to do this.”

“What is all this, anyway?” Draco says, carefully leaning forward.

“You want to try it?” Potter asks in a teasing tone.

Draco scrunches up his nose. “I think I’ll stick with the pancakes. I mean, you did go through all the trouble of whipping up a baking mixture.”

“Hey, I made those from scratch.”

“Of course you did.” Draco smirks into his coffee.

“For your information, I make _everything_ from scratch.” Potter’s tone is light, but it’s a little defensive, too.

“My my, Potter, I had no idea you were such a good house-elf.”

“If Master would kindly shut up now and eat his fucking pancakes,” Potter grins. “They’re getting cold.”

Draco snorts and places his napkin on his lap.

“We’re not at the restaurant, you know. You don’t have to do that.”

“Merlin, you’re such a heathen, Potter.”

“Draco.”

“Don’t ‘Draco’ me.” He tries to keep his face impassive. He still isn’t used to Potter calling him by his first name. It slipped out once during sex and neither of them commented on it. But, to Draco’s horror, Potter kept calling him by his first name after that. He secretly loves it, but there’s no need for Potter to know that.

He carefully cuts into one of the pancakes, surprised at how fluffy it is. He can sense Potter’s eyes on him as he slowly moves the fork to his mouth. The first thing he tastes as his lips close around the fork is the syrup. It’s not too sweet which surprises him pleasantly. He peeks at Potter from under his lashes as he chews, willing himself not to smile. Holy shit, those pancakes taste amazing.

“So?” Potter asks, and Draco can hear a faint hint of hesitancy.

He shrugs. “They’re okay, I guess.” He puts down the cutlery and leans back in his chair. “I’ve had worse.”

Potter gives him a lopsided grin. “Yeah, but the question is, have you had better?”

Oh, Potter, what a thing to ask!

_Draco clutches at the duvet as Potter finally,_ finally _aligns his cock properly and slowly pushes in._

_“Oh fuck!”_

_Draco definitely agrees. Potter moves slowly, his fingers curling around Draco’s hips tenderly. This feels different somehow. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. It feels good, but normally, Potter rushes things a bit. Draco waits for the maddening tempo Potter is undoubtedly going to set, his toes curling in anticipation. Instead, Potter pulls back slowly, his fingers fanning out on Draco’s hips._

_“Oh!” Draco almost collapses when Potter pulls his hips back and thrusts into him._

_“Are you okay?” Potter asks._

_“Yes! Oh, Merlin, do that again.”_

_He does. Over and over again. His pace is unbearably slow and his thrusts deliciously intense._

_“We’ve— Oh! We’ve never done it like this,” Draco wheezes. Potter doesn’t answer. He only groans at every thrust, his fingers digging deeper into Draco’s skin._

_Every fiber of Draco’s body relishes Potter’s movements. He didn’t think Potter could get any better at this. How wrong he was. The way he keeps pulling Draco’s hips back as he slams into him is just mind-blowing._

_“Fuck, you feel so good,” Potter moans. “I missed you so much.”_

_Somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco wonders if Potter isn’t only talking about the sex. Does he want him to not only be talking about sex? He can’t deny he missed Potter as well. A lot._

_His heart jumps when he feels Potter leaning forward, pressing himself against Draco’s back. This new position allows Potter to push in even deeper and he lets out a filthy moan as he presses his cheek against Draco’s shoulder blade._

_“I missed you so much,” he repeats, his voice barely a whisper. It makes Draco’s stomach flip. Something is different. The way Potter is fucking him, even the way he’s touching him feels… different._

_“I missed you, too,” Draco breathes. He gasps at every movement of Potter’s hips which sends tiny shockwaves down his spine. Fuck, this feels so good. Potter feels so good._

Without his permission, Draco’s mouth curves into a smile. “I’m Draco Malfoy. I only deserve the best.”

Potter grins with a challenging look in his eyes. “What does that say about me, then?” he practically purrs. “Since you’re sitting here with me?”

“So eager for compliments,” Draco says in mock disapproval. He leans forward and teasingly runs a finger down Potter’s cheek. “You’ll do.”

Before Potter can grab his hand, Draco quickly leans away and pops a raspberry into his mouth, followed by another piece of pancake. Damn it, what is Potter’s secret? They are absolutely delicious! Even more so because Draco suspects he might be the only person to ever enjoy the incomparable taste after a night of rolling around in the sheets with Potter. At least… he kind of wishes he’s the only person.

Something stirs in his chest as he swallows and the taste still lingers on his tongue. This is it. He wants this. He wants to wake up with Potter every morning and eat his heavenly pancakes. And… watch him poke around in his bowl of rice and… slurp that very strange-looking stew.

On second thought…

“That’s disgusting, Potter.”

“That’s why I made you pancakes.” Potter seems completely unimpressed by the nauseated look on Draco’s face.

“How can you eat that?” he chokes as Potter shoves something into his mouth that looks like it had once been a fish.

“What?”

“Ugh, Potter, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“You’re the one talking to me while I’m eating.”

Draco makes another face and sips his coffee. There’s something bright red right in front of him. It might be some kind of vegetable. It smells absolutely horrendous; kind of… sour and… just… really smelly. The only thing that doesn’t look revolting is the sushi. Except… is there even any fish in it?

“What kind of sushi is this?” he finally asks.

“Ah, it’s not sushi,” Potter smiles. “At least, it’s the Korean version of it. It’s called kimbap.”

Draco gives him a look like an irritated cat after someone tried to play with it. Potter simply sniggers.

“Kim means seaweed and bap means rice,” Potter explains. “You can pretty much put anything you want in there.”

“What did you put in there?” Draco asks, scrunching up his nose.  
  
“The usual,” Potter shrugs. “Some spinach, carrots, a cut up omelette, pickled radish—”

“What? That’s disgusting!”

“You haven’t even tried it,” Potter says, rolling his eyes.

Draco snorts and takes another sip of coffee.

“Come on, try one,” Potter says, his tone encouraging.

“No way, Potter.”

“Come on,” he grins. “I know you want to.”

“Pfft.” Draco lets his gaze flick over it and bites his lip. He must admit, he is kind of intrigued. Half a minute passes until he gives in and grabs his fork to carefully poke at the… Korean sushi.

“Wait, you can’t use your fork,” Potter says and waves his hand.

“Why not?” Draco retorts, his eyes widening when a pair of chopsticks fly towards him. He catches them in mid-air.

“Just use those.”

Draco presses his lips into a tight line. Shit. He’s not that good with chopsticks. Pansy and Blaise always tease him about it whenever they go to a Chinese restaurant. He hasn’t even had sushi before, let alone tried to pick it up with chopsticks. Potter will probably be a complete prick about this.

“You know what? No,” Draco says defiantly and slams the chopsticks onto the table. Potter looks at him in astonishment. “Feed me.”

“What?”

“Feed me the damn sushi.”

Potter looks at him as though Draco just asked him to eat his arse instead of breakfast.

“You—You want me to feed you.”

“Unless you want me to starve,” Draco says, crossing his arms in front of his chest and pursing his lips into a little pout.

“Merlin, you’re so dramatic,” Potter chuckles. He lifts one of the rolls with perfect ease and dangles it in front of Draco. “Here you go.”

Draco leans forward and sniffs at it warily. It doesn’t smell too bad. He carefully opens his mouth and takes the whole roll from Potter’s chopsticks. He chews as slowly as possible, expecting to be hit by weird tastes at any second. Ew, there it is. The pickled radish. It has to be. It’s… weirdly sweet. But… the weirdest part is… it’s not as horrible as Draco thought. It actually goes quite well with the omelette, which must contain at least one pound of salt. It’s extremely weird. But also… kind of tasty.

“So?” Potter asks, propping his chin up on his chopsticks-free hand.

Draco avoids his gaze and continues chewing pensively. Potter chuckles when he swallows, which Draco chooses to ignore.

“I’m not sure,” he lies. “Give me another one.”

Potter smirks, but he obliges and studies Draco even more closely this time. It’s different than what he’s used to, but… yeah, it’s different. But okay different.

He watches Potter as he navigates his chopsticks to something Draco has never seen before.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“I thought people shouldn’t talk with their mouth full,” Potter retorts. “Bean sprouts,” he adds before Draco can say anything else. “They’re good.”

Draco quickly swallows and immediately opens his mouth, leaning towards Potter.

“You want to try them?” Potter laughs.

“Hurry, before I change my mind.” Potter obliges but Draco immediately wishes he hadn’t. “Ew, that’s… ew!”

“I guess it’s not for everyone,” Potter laughs.

“Give me some of that,” Draco says as soon as the disgusting bean sprouts are gone.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” Potter murmurs, “otherwise I wouldn’t let you boss me around like this.”

“I’m not cute,” Draco snaps and opens his mouth as Potter feeds him what he suspects is spinach. It is. It tastes… far better than spinach usually does.

“It’s probably the sesame oil,” Potter grins and Draco notices he’s been watching him. “You know, what’s making it taste so different.”

“What’s that?” Draco asks, ignoring the smug look on Potter’s face.

“Oh, I don’t think you should eat that,” Potter says.

“Is that a challenge, Potter?” Draco smirks.

“No. I just don’t want you to whine about—”

“I don’t whine,” Draco says indignantly. “Now feed me the damn—Whatever it is.”

“Kimchi,” Potter clarifies. He picks it up effortlessly with his chopsticks. “You should probably eat some rice with that. It’s pretty spicy.” He takes a spoonful of rice and Draco notices that his cheeks have turned quite rosy.

“What?” he asks. “What is it?”

Potter bites his lip, apparently deciding whether or not to tell Draco what’s on his mind. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “You’re so crude sometimes.”

“Excuse me?”

Potter sniggers. “Do you know what it means in Korea when someone feeds you?”

“Of course not,” Draco grumbles. He crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively. “What does it mean?”

“Well…” Potter hesitates. “Aside from parents feeding their children… usually only… err… only lovers do that. And married couples.”

Draco blinks. Before he can stop himself, he blurts, “So?”

Potter’s eyes widen. “So?” he echoes.

Draco presses his lips into a tight line. Oh. Right. They haven’t talked about that yet. Right now, they’re basically just two blokes shagging on occasion. Many occasions. Pretty regularly. They haven’t even talked about being exclusive. Although Draco assumes they are. Potter made it clear on more than one occasion that he’s a one-person-at-a-time type of bloke and Draco… Well, if Potter doesn’t know he’s absolutely crazy about him, he really is as dense as Draco likes to tease him about. He wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of making Potter his boyfriend. Not at all, actually. But is it what _he_ wants?

Something Potter said the night before, or rather didn’t say, suddenly pops into Draco’s mind.

_“Fuck, Draco, I’m going to come,” Potter moans._

_“Yes,” Draco hisses and he quickly grabs his own cock. “Yes, yes, yes!”_

_“Merlin, Draco! Draco! Draco!”_

_“Aaaah!” Draco feels himself clench around Potter’s cock as his own throbs in his hand. Every muscle in his body clenches and he welcomes the massive wave of pleasure that washes over him. “Oooh, yes!”_

_He hears Potter choke behind him as he thrusts into Draco one more time. “Fuck!”_

_Draco slowly releases his cock and tries to catch his breath. His lips stretch into a smile as Potter plants kisses all over his back and slowly pulls out his cock._

_“You should go on super secret missions more often,” Draco says when Potter plops down on the bed next to him and non-verbally vanishes their mess._

_“Oh yeah?” he responds with an equally bright smile._

_“Yeah.” Draco tries not to let his giddiness show when Potter opens his arms and motions for him to come closer. He buries his face in the crook of his neck and slings one leg over Potter’s. “If it makes you that desperate—”_

_“Desperate?” Potter laughs. Merlin, Draco loves that sound. “I think you’re a little bit confused. You’re the one who was desperate for me.”_

_“Please, Potter,” Draco snorts. “If I wouldn’t have let you fuck me, you would have imploded. Lucky for you, I’m good at making you relieve stress.”_

_Potter stiffens and the hand that’s been stroking Draco’s arm pauses. “You, err—”_

_Draco stiffens as well._

_“You know that’s not—”_

_Draco lifts his head and blinks at Potter. “What?”_

_“You know I’m not just using you… right?”_

_Draco rolls his eyes. “Potter, that would imply I’m letting you use me. I don’t let anybody use me.”_

_“Right,” Potter says, even though he doesn’t sound convinced._

_“What’s gotten into you tonight?” Draco asks, raising an eyebrow._

_“It’s nothing,” Potter says, a bit too hastily._

_“Did something happen on that mission?”_

_Potter purses his lips and looks at the ceiling. “Not… really.”_

_“Not really?” Draco echoes._

_“I just… I just missed you.”_

_“You keep saying that,” Draco murmurs. He eyes Potter sceptically, sensing there’s more to this, something Potter isn’t saying._

“Is this about last night?” Draco asks. The look on Potter’s face is so intense, it makes Draco’s head spin. “It is, isn’t it? You were acting weird.”

Potter snorts, but Draco notices there’s something off.

“I’m not using you either, if that’s what you—” Draco breaks off when Potter’s eyes snap up to his.

“So you remember that,” he murmurs.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Potter just shrugs and takes a sip of tea.

“Then again,” Draco says, smirking, “maybe I am using you… to get to your pancakes.”

“Ah, so you admit they’re good,” Potter grins.

“You’re so greedy! Didn’t I tell you enough last night _how good_ you were?” Draco reaches out and traces Potter’s bottom lip with his finger.

“That’s different,” Potter says, trying to snatch at Draco’s finger with his mouth. “Sex isn’t the same as food.”

“Oh? Please, enlighten me. What’s the difference?”

“Well, I can’t speak for everybody,” Potter says, grabbing Draco’s hand before he can pull away. His fingers are so warm against Draco’s skin. “With sex, it’s mostly about satisfying your body’s needs.”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “And eating isn’t?”

“Like I said, it’s different. For me…” He bites his bottom lip and Draco is so distracted by it, he almost misses the rest of Potter’s sentence. “For me, having a meal with somebody is very… intimate.”

“And sex isn’t?” Draco suppresses the urge to laugh. Potter seems a bit more serious all of a sudden.

“Well… I’m not proud of it, but I’ve had a few flings that didn’t really mean anything to me.”

“So?”

Where is Potter going with this? Is Draco just another fling, too?

“So…” He exhales loudly. “I’ve had sex with them, but they never—I never—” Potter bites his lip again as his eyes find Draco’s.

Understanding slowly dawns on him and for a second, he is completely baffled. “You never let them stay for breakfast,” he breathes.

“No. I don’t. In fact, I’ve never let anyone I slept with in this house before.”

He knew it! Draco knew it! It is a big deal after all, him sitting here in Potter’s kitchen.

“Huh,” he says, a grin creeping onto his face. “Only the best for Harry Potter as well, then.”

“You’re impossible,” Potter chuckles, but he lifts their joined hands to his mouth and kisses Draco’s palm. “Now eat the best pancakes you’ve ever had.” Potter doesn’t look smug as he says it, but his tone makes it very clear he has no doubt about his skills. It’s irritatingly hot.

“No, I want to try the… what’s it called again?”

“Kimchi. Are you really sure?”

Draco simply rolls his eyes in response.

“You asked for it,” Potter says and grabs his chopsticks again. The kimchi is bright red and it’s dripping onto the table.

“Wait,” Draco says, “what exactly is this?”

“Eat it, then I’ll tell you.”

“So it’s bad.”

“Trust me, it’ll be better this way.”

Draco eyes it sceptically, but he opens his mouth and lets Potter place the kimchin on his tongue. As soon as he starts chewing, he can’t help but gag. It’s sour. It’s crunchy. It’s… so weird. And—fuck—it’s so bloody spicy!

“Water,” Draco croaks. “Water!”

“Drink your coffee,” Potter says. “The milk will help.”

Draco grabs his mug with both hands and gulps down the coffee. It does help, but the aftertaste is absolutely horrendous.

“Why did you let me eat that?” Draco barks as Potter clutches his stomach and almost doubles over from laughter.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” he wheezes.

“What the bloody hell is that?”

“It’s pickled cabbage with garlic and chilli,” Potter snorts.

“I hate you,” Draco snaps.

“Well, too bad, because I love—”

Draco almost drops the mug in his hands.

As he turns his head, he sees Potter’s expression go from bright and open to shocked and worried.

“What did you just say?” Draco whispers. Potter just stares at him. “What did you just—” Draco breaks off as his brain goes into overdrive. There was something Potter said last night. Something Draco didn’t think much of when he woke up this morning because, surely, that was a dream. It was only a dream!

_“Merlin, I can’t move,” Draco groans._

_“You don’t have to. Let’s just get some sleep.” Potter kisses his forehead and covers them both with the duvet before he pulls Draco closer to him. Huh. Whatever this is, Draco could get used to it. He definitely could._

_His eyes feel so heavy and he’s already on the verge of sleep when he feels Potter shift beside him._

_“Draco?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“Something did happen on that mission.”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“My partner… he got injured.”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“It wasn’t that bad, but… it made me realise—”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“Draco, are you sleeping?”_

_“Hmm.”_

_He faintly registers Potter burying his face in his hair._

_“I’m going to tell Robards I’m not going on any missions for a while.” He presses a kiss on Draco’s head. “I don’t want to be apart from you. I—I think—” He pulls Draco closer. “I think I might be falling in love with you.”_

Draco’s eyes are starting to water. He probably hasn’t blinked in about thirty seconds.

“Draco… um… I told you something last night. And I—I don’t know—”

“I remember now,” Draco whispers.

“You do?”

“I—I thought it was a dream, I—”

“It wasn’t.”

They stare at each other for what feels like several minutes. So many emotions rush through Draco, he can barely keep up. Shock, doubtfulness, wonder, warmth, glee, giddiness, bliss…

Potter blinks as Draco’s lips curl into a smile.  
  
“No take backs, Potter.”

“What?”

“Your arse is mine now.” He takes a sip of coffee and leans back in his chair, relishing the sight of Potter being completely flabbergasted.

“Is this—” He swallows. “Is this your way of telling me you feel the same?”

“Honestly, Potter, you’re the thickest person on this planet.”

Potter bites his lip and Draco watches as his face slowly lights up.

“Took you long enough,” Draco murmurs into his mug.

Potter laughs and Draco can practically hear the relief and joy in his voice.

“You know,” Draco says, taking a look around, “technically, this is my house, too.”

“How do you figure?” Potter retorts, placing his elbows on the table with an amused smile.

“It’s been in the possession of the Black family for centuries.”

“So?” Potter’s smile widens.

“I’m a Black,” Draco shrugs.

“And what exactly are you trying to tell me with this?”

“I’m just saying,” Draco says with another shrug.

“I guess I could make up the guest bedroom for you,” Potter suggests and taps a finger against his chin.

Draco snorts.

“Or you could just stay in my bed.”

“That’s more like it,” Draco says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“On one condition, though.”

“What?”

“You have to earn it.”

“And how do I do that?”

“You’ll have to eat breakfast with me. Every morning. No exceptions.”

Draco is tempted to snort again. That’s not even a challenge.

“And lunch. And dinner.” Potter gestures around the table.

Draco sniggers. When Potter’s lips stretch into a huge grin, he wonders who just played who. But it doesn’t matter. If this is what his future looks like, he’ll take it. Gladly.

This is what he wants. For Potter to look at him like that for the rest of his life. While feeding him breakfast. His self-made breakfast. From scratch.

He leans forward and motions for Potter to do the same. As soon as their lips touch, something warm and pleasant trickles down inside Draco’s chest and it’s so much sweeter than the syrup on his long forgotten pancakes. He slightly pulls back to look Potter in the eye and is pleased when he finds them glowing and full of excitement. Draco can’t help but grin.

“Bring it on, Potter,” he whispers. “Oh, but no kimchi.”

Potter bursts out laughing. He closes the gap between them once more and moves his lips tenderly against Draco’s.

“We’ll see about that,” he murmurs. “I have a feeling you’ll love it before you even know it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/147855.html).
> 
> [Here's an absolutely fabulous illustration](https://deluminatorillustrator.tumblr.com/post/182966490738/its-finally-finished-parkkate-commissioned-me) of Harry's and Draco's morning in Harry's kitchen :)


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